An Elven Tale
by Vanim13kiss
Summary: AU. The lords of the elves learn that nothing can change the future: not in the case of the greatest love between a mortal & an elf. Of sacrifices, fate, passion and love. [SLASH] -replies editted.
1. Prologue

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer**: Alas, nothing familiar belongs to me at all, they are from master TRR Tolkien, god bless his soul and thank him for his work. Oh and Peter Jackson is wonderful – for bringing LOTR alive.

**Synopsis**: AU. Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, had lived a normal elven life – that is, until he found a letter in the forest outside his home's range. Deeply touched after reading the letter, he embarks on a journey that would change his life, possibly forever. – OOC –   

**Warning**: Very, very, out of character and extreme AU. No ring, (but there **is** eastern evils, orcs etc and Sauron is not just 'an eye') - does not go along with the usual LOTR storyline. **Slash** (and if you are against m/m relationships **for god's sake don't continue**)

**Author's Notes**: As I said, this story is absolutely out of character and out of the Tolkien version of LOTR. You have being warned already. Anyhow, story is not beta-ed, constructive criticisms are most welcomed ^_^ oh yes, I love them. 

**Pairings**: Aragorn/Legolas; implied Aragorn/Arwen

**Genre**: Romance/Angst (Also a little action/adventure)

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Prologue**

*

_Dearest Arwen,_

_It has being nigh on a few months since my sight had last caught of your beauty, yet your presence is still as clear as the Nimrodel river in my mind and heart, our promises are echoes by my ears._

_I miss you, melethril nin, the months of separation was torture to me, without you by my side to talk to at the silence of the night; unable to hear of your melodic voice, or to caress your heavenly cheeks – they were and still are too hard to learn to live without. I cannot live without you, beloved. Mayhap I have said this for many a time, but I must repeat again: you are everything to me, Arwen. Everything._

_Amin mela lle. [I love you]. _

_We hither now towards Imladris, I cannot wait for the day when you would be in my arms again – alas, it is not this day. My love for you grows stronger every minute I am away from you, and your scent is all that fills my desire with overpowering sense of longing. Oh how I miss you._

_I have dreamt of you last night, you were calling to me, beckoning me towards you. But behind you were the evils beyond those I can imagine. Arwen, you are in danger: you and those of your kin. __Ada__ has already foreseen many deeds that were to come to pass and the lady of the Golden Woods also.  The doom of Middle Earth is close, the fate of elves and men draws near. Evil stirs now in the East, melamin, please, keep yourself safe, I beg of thee._

_These months of labour in the forest with the men of Gondor proved to be long and hard, but my kingdom needs me, I cannot lead the people of Gondor astray. They need me. The evils are gaining power over everything, we are losing time. A few men were lost in our journey, they were good men. __Battle__ steals from us the best of people; I do not want to lose you too in this disarray, never._

_You mustn't leave Imladris Arwen; the powers of your people will protect you there…_

A sudden commotion disrupted Aragorn's emotions, an arrow narrowly missed him by mere inches shot past and landed its mark on the bank of a tree. He spun around; the letter dropped silently from his hands and onto the hard, cold ground. 

The leaves rustled of near presence. Uninvited…presence. 

"Aragorn…!" A man came to him, alarm in his voice. 

"Orcs." Aragorn whispered, standing up. He unsheathed his sword from its scabbard in one swift motion, bidding the other men to do the same.  

Sure enough, out of the darkness came hurtling towards them a group of deadly creatures, each with their sword raised high, around twenty-two in number. Before the men were even ready, a few arrows had shot down two of their companions. 

Aragorn roared with outrage, pulling his sword from the torso of one orc and slicing another with so such vigour he had never felt before. He turned and kicked away one behind him, his eyes burning of fierce flames. The world was in complete dismay; the orcs were gaining upon them. Many of their men had fallen captivity under the devious creatures, it was a hopeless battle. 

"We cannot win." There was a cry above the noises of battle. Aragorn sighted his comrade by the corners of his eyes, aghast to note the other man's force was also failing by the second. "They mean not to kill us, we are in no peril – go Aragorn, leave us, you must go!"

"I cannot Matthew!" Aragorn mentally begged the man to stay strengthened, his bellow was in slight gasps, "That is cowardly; I cannot leave my men behind."

He felt a great push behind him, sending him beyond the battlefield. He panted as he tried to stand, his breaths came in grunts. 

His eyes caught a quill, and an edge of a parchment – the letter! He reached for the quill, which still dripped with ink. 

He scribbled a few more words, the sounds of the enemy close behind him. They were coming. 

_Orcs. Many of them. There is no way we can win. Remember I love you, melethril nin._

.

.

.

He let the letter from his hands, rolled horizontally on the ground and defended himself from the sharp blade of an orc. Their swords clashed. 

A searing pan tore through his side – an arrow had embedded itself in its rightful destination, and before he knew what had happened… his world turned into pure blackness.

Silence. 

Unaware to the orcs, the light breeze of the coming dawn carried the letter from the group…

Away…

Away…

~*


	2. Of the Prince and the Letter

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer and warning**: general disclaimer/warning comply, please refer to chapter 1 [prologue]

**Author's note**: Excuse my horrible elvish please! They're just bits and pieces put together from different words, very – unreliable. 

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Chapter 1: Of the prince and the letter**

*

A grey cloud rolled over the moon, blocking all that was of the bright crescent light. The occasional twinkles of the stars were the only source of radiance that shone in the darkness of the Mirkwood realm. A candle beam flickered dangerously in the light breeze that rippled through the silence of the night, threatening to die out. Once… twice… and trice…

The elf of which stood behind the glow of the candles was hidden beneath a long cloaked hood, a part of his fair face illuminated by the wavering blaze. Traces of his long, silvery-blonde locks fell from his shoulders, amazingly long. 

_Once_…

 As though answering his wishes, the breeze raged stronger. 

_Twice…_

The wind was ghastly now, the leaves rustled against each other in rambling whispers. The candle flame was waning. 

_Trice…_

The candle lights died to complete silence; even the wind stopped its horrific blows. The clouds hovered above in the sky, concealing even the glimmers of the stars. All was dark, silent. 

The elf allowed himself the slightest of grins. He turned abruptly and raced down the garden trails, soundless and graceful, the gift of the first-borns. Glimpse of his golden hair glistened in the shadows that surrounded him, and the strong aura he possessed shone faintly in the dark, hidden by the cloak. 

He followed the familiar route to the stables, wherein he found his steed – the beauty of horses, Aenil. She was bare of back, gleaming white. 

"Mín glenno hé lύ, Ifant mellon-nin [we leave this hour, my old friend]," He spoke fondly, gently stroking his stallion's mane, his voice ever so soft. "Laum echedi-baw, min eglechio sidth [make no sound, we must depart in peace]."

The horse blinked its understanding, and the reassured elf mounted. For almost the 3000 years of his existence, he lived the normal elven life of archery, hunting and swords play. Though he was mature, or even elderly in sense of mortal years, he was but a princeling, the youngest of the Mirkwood royalties, and for that he was well-protected. He had rarely left the realms of Mirkwood where his kin dwelt, yet his heart longed to see the world beyond his beloved home. He knew the time of the elves were over, and soon he and his people would set sail across the sea to the west: he had heard the songs of joy. And no matter how his heart sings to him of desire in the west, he had to explore the beauty of Middle Earth. Had to. 

He turned his steed before the forest would obscure from him the last details of his home, and upon the horseback he watched for a few slight minutes the faint outline of the Mirkwood House. He had no idea when he will be back, nor in which manner he shall return. But somehow in his heart he knew he had made the right choice, that he was out to find not only adventures, also his destiny. 

His fate.

He pulled the reins of Aenil, unhesitant. Without another backward glance, he rode away into the night…

Away… 

*

The sun was rising behind the mountains, casting a golden hue over all life form of Middle Earth. The Mirkwood elf was bathed in the first sunrays. The hood had fallen during his fierce ride, and revealed to the blooming world of his fair face, which was illuminated in a vision to behold: of beauty and grace. He halted his horse for the second time since their nights' travel to look back in the direction of his homeland, knowing well that a search party must be fast under-way. He had written a letter of explanation, but somehow he doubted it would sooth the worries of his father and brothers. 

"Díheno-min [Forgive me]." He whispered to pure nothingness. 

He was well beyond the borders of his people, for he had ridden upon Aenil in the fastest speed during the dead night, only occasionally risking a light gallop. He had no idea where his destination lays… his intuition and adventurous soul were the only sources driving him on. 

His gaze turned to the road ahead of him, wonder and amazement in his eyes. 

_Freedom…_

The savor of independence was sweet-tasting upon his lips, almost too good to be true. 

_Is this real?_

Out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight a slight ruffles in the sky – a bird perhaps, yet it looked helpless in the battle of flight. The sun was streaming at him in the direction of the 'bird', and thus his keen elven eyes could not confirm his sighting. 

_An injured bird?_

The first-borns had an unusual attachment towards nature, the woodland elves especially so. Thus he turned Aenil so she trotted instead towards the direction of the 'bird', for he intended to help. If he only knew what that simple gesture meant – that his life's history would from then onwards be re-written… 

"Alas, my elven sight fails me." He whispered as his the letter that was caught within the leaves seemed to flow into his hands. "It is but a mere parchment! An injured bird indeed." 

The parchment of paper was torn, crumbled, and covered of dirt – nevertheless still attached and readable. He had one indistinct mind to leave it unregarded: he did not fancy minding other's business. Hence he allowed his fingers to widen a tiny gap, so the wind would once again carry the letter from his grasp into the unknown. There was a slight gust in the air: he could feel his hair dancing along, yet the letter stayed in his hands, as though wind alone could not weave it away from him. 

A slight scowl appeared on his handsome face, and instead he heaved the parchment. It circled above his head for a lone moment, and once again made its way towards him. 

Intrigued, he caught it with a firm grip. 

A look of hesitance came across his face before he held the parchment in front of him. It was meant to feel wrong, but somehow it felt right. 

**_Dearest Arwen,_**

****

**_It has being nigh on a few months since my sight had last caught of your beauty, yet your presence is still as clear as the River Nimrodel in my mind and heart, our promises echoes by my ears…_**

An unknown feeling washed him from head to toe as he read the letter, the first love letter he had ever come across. 

He didn't know who the writer was, or the receiver - Arwen, but the letter revealed to him of their great love, and he was deeply touched. 

**_Orcs._****_ Many of them. Remember I love you, melethril nin. _** 

For some reason he felt blood boil within his veins. Yrchs! His homeland had long being under-attacked by orcs since long ago, and then onwards the once lovely Greenwood was transformed to Mirkwood, stained by the evils of the eastern realms. Oh how he simply detested the foul creatures…

Unbeknownst even to himself, he had crunched the parchment tight in his fist. 

_Imladris…_

Perhaps he did have somewhere to go, after all. 

~*~

**You may want to consider [ah, just for a bit of fun =D – and tell me your guesses!]:**

**So Legolas (I assume you have all figured it _is_ Legolas in this chapter) is heading towards Rivendell, what happens when Arwen gets the letter?**

**Lord Elrond of Imladris and Thranduil of the Mirkwood are acquainted, what happens to Legolas when he gets to Rivendell – sent back to his kin?**

**Meanwhile, what happens to Aragorn and his men?**

**What did the orcs want from the men that they _captured_ them instead of slain?**

**~***

**Replies:**

**Silvertoekee****:** glad you liked the idea :) I actually got this idea from reading a book, quite different it is, but still similar in a sense. Oh you work in a DVD store! How lucky! I wanted to work in blockbuster, but oh no they only accept uni students who can work full-time. Ark! Thanks for the information by the way (concerning the disk coming-out dates info). ^_^ Ahh… I must admit sitting in the cinemas for 10 hours is no fun affair, especially when there is only _ten_ minutes of interval where as movie lasts three – four hours each, but for Legolas and Aragorn I endure anything ^_^. LoL. I think I'm too crazy for them. Anyhow, thanks so much! 

**Legolas19:** glad you liked the chapter ^^ and here's the next – mainly of the most beloved elf (in my case, that is) Legolas! Hope you've enjoyed.

**Tmelange****:** ah thank you. Hopefully my weirdo brain won't get too far from the original idea as the story progresses. 

**Alexandra:** Here's more ^_^ hope it was up to scratch, yeah? Thanks!

**~*Goddess*~: **Jen! Ah yes, Legolas is hot! And so is Aragorn ^_^. Love them to deaths. Lol. Thanks for coming sweetie, oh and yes. I am terribly jealous of the pic on your folder – how could you! =glares= now you have to make up. Ha! 

**Emme1:** Um, sorry, Kevin Coster? My knowledge is rather shallow, sorry for not understanding =P Anyhow, glad you liked the start ^^

**Yami**** Meji no Minaraikou:** LoL! Ah, yes, a big risk, but must blame himself for not hearing the coming of the enemies, hm? Naughty… too absorbed in memories of his lady. Thanks muchies girl! (oh, don't forget to email me when there's a sequel =wink=!!)

**Goldmund****:** What become of Aragorn? Nothing! Absolutely nothing horrible, of course [feigned innocence]. :P Yup, might've already realised that the letter in the last chap was the one Legolas finds. Weird I suppose, that he finds a letter not even addressed to himself and it could change his life – but hey, weird things happen. ^^ Thanks!

Ta!


	3. Heavy on Heart

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer and warning**: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing.   
  


**Author's Notes [PLEASE READ]:** I changed the synopsis of this story, however, the letter idea remains. Please don't think I've changed the whole thing altogether. Also notice in my first chapter (prologue) I actually stated Sauron is not just an eye – well I kind of changed my mind =P things should be along the lines of LOTR _except_ very alternately in sense of adventures and etc.   
  


**Synopsis:** The lords of elves learn that nothing can change the future – not in the case of the greatest love between a mortal and an elf. A story of sacrifices, of fate, of passion and of love, in which Legolas looks for adventures, but he receives much more.

**Warning:** First of all this is AU, it does not go along with the storyline of LOTR. And secondly, I don't know if I can stress this enough: this is a **slash** fanfiction, which means it is m/m relationship. If you have anything against it, click on the **back** arrow this minute… no, this second!

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Chapter 2: Heavy on Heart**

~*

The river was calm and tranquil in front of him, rather a contrary of the fierce debate in his mind. 

One more step… one more step and he would cross the river Bruinen, one more step and he would face what was possibly the end of his freedom, and lose his only chance to explore the wonders of Middle Earth. Was he willing? For a letter…for two people he did not even know? 

The same feeling of remorse and desperation came back to him, flooding all his senses. 

_Yes._

He felt a need to help the man who was held captive by the orcs, an unknown feeling was in his heart, and he could not explain it. 

He took a deep breath, his eyes set to the destination before him, a little tense. The last he had visited the Sindar elves were almost a thousand years ago – he could not remember exactly when, for time to an immortal elf such as himself was but a void. He could not imagine what kind of greeting he would receive: would he be welcomed? Or forgotten? 

Half a mind on the constant throbs of anxiety at the back of his head, his legs gently squeezed Aenil's thighs, bidding her to trot forwards. The stream was amazingly clear; he almost wished he could walk along the water bare of feet, perhaps it would rid him any misfortunes that might befall him. 

Aenil stopped short in front of marble stairs embedded in a garden of nature all too soon. And Legolas dismounted, looking for any signs of life. 

A manly figure appeared above the stairs, solemn and demanding at glance. Legolas knew without a doubt that it was Elrond Peredhil, lord of Rivendell. 

_Show the letter and leave._ He mentally commanded himself.

"My lord Elrond," He gave a graceful bow. 

"Follow me, Legolas of the woodland realm." Elrond beckoned; his voice deep of great authority. 

Legolas gulped. 

He followed Elrond into a chamber of studies (as it seemed). Shelves of books were placed around the room in sequence, there were more than thousands present, he was sure. A table stood near the window, rolls of parchments and books lay scattered across it. 

Horror struck him as he caught sight of a letter upon the desk, the markings of Mirkwood as plain as the sun in a cloudless sky, stamped in the deepest shade of red upon the pale white paper. His stomach tightened, unease spread through his limbs. 

_I knew this was a mistake._

"I have just received word from your father, Legolas." Elrond followed Legolas' sight, "He wishes for you to return to Mirkwood immediately. I'm afraid I-"

"Please, Lord Elrond!" Legolas cut in, dignity forgotten. "I cannot go back – I cannot! The elves are leaving Middle Earth, they sing to me of the west – of the seas." 

Pause. 

"For 3000 years I lived in this mortal land without a chance to explore its wonders, or to see for myself the other races of Middle Earth. Please… I will be of no bother, I promise you. Please do not let ada know of my presence in Imladris. This is my only chance…"

"Legolas…it is the wish of your father, it is not up to I to decide." 

"Please." He pleaded. "Do not tell ada of my whereabouts, I come here only to deliver a letter I came across, I do not mean to dwell."

"Nay that is not what I mean, little one. You are welcomed at any occasion. It is Thranduil, he only wishes for you to remain unscathed, protected."

"But my years are wasted away in protection!" Legolas spoke with a bitter edge. "I am no longer a mere elfling; I am a trained warrior." 

Tense silence filled the air, neither Elrond nor Legolas made any movements. 

Elrond looked at Legolas, whose gaze was strong even under the intenseness of his very own scrutinizing stare, Legolas' face reflected of mild anger. 

_He is right. He is no longer an elfling._

"Show me the letter." 

Obediently, Legolas handed over the piece of crumbled parchment. 

Elrond looked amused at the state of the letter for a second, then flattened it with his hands and read. 

His brows furrowed tighter as he progressed through the letter, with each word his heart weighed a billion more tonnes. It was not just the peril Aragorn faced that gravened him, but also the reality that out of all chances Legolas had come across it. 

"I meant not to read it, milord." Legolas added hastily, reading the scowl "It did not leave me … and thus my curiousity was too strong to bear." 

"It would not leave you?" Elrond asked. Was that fear which shook Elrond's usually solemn voice?

"Aye, I could not rid of it." 

Legolas could confirm it now, the unusual alarm that was present in Elrond's dark grey eyes. Elrond stared at the parchment in his hands as though the words were more than what they said. He muttered something extremely soft, and no matter how Legolas strained to hear, he could not catch a word. 

"I will not send you back to Mirkwood, Legolas," Elrond said finally, peering at the younger elf with a stern eye. "But you must tell me how you came with the letter – and how you tried to rid of it without success. Tell me everything; do not miss a single detail."

Disbelieving of his own hearing, Legolas stared blankly as Elrond moved across the room to sit behind his table, the letter still clutched in his hands. The elder elf gave a nod, waiting expectantly. 

"It was but a few days ago…" And thus Legolas began. 

*

Aragorn glared at the orcs, his chin held high and jaws hardened. Identical looks were upon the faces of every other man, they look of true warriors. Ropes were snaked around their wrists, rather tight, binding their hands behind their backs. 

They were resting now somewhere deep in the forest near Rivendell. From the route, Aragorn guessed they were being taken to Isengard. But if indeed that was the case, then Aragorn was not worried, for the paths ahead lay Moria and the Golden Woods, perhaps they'd seek refuge of some sort. 

The orcs were camping beside their fires ablaze, dining the poor horses which once belonged to the men. They rather tore at the steeds, knowing of no shame or dignity. 

An orc with nasty yellow eyes stared pointedly at Aragorn, before walking up to the men, choosing to ignore his share of food. In a dead whisper he asked forcefully, "Tell us, filthy men, where is the heir of Isuildur?" 

"What do you want from Isuildur's heir?" Aragorn asked in return, there was no fear in his voice. 

"It is not in your statue to ask questions." The orc snapped, "Your life is in our hands." 

"Then I will not speak, not in answer nor question."

"I will kill you then, you are useless." The orc smelt of rotten flesh as he rounded upon Aragorn, a vicious smile playing on his distorted face. "Speak or die."

If he thought that he had alarmed Aragorn, he was wrong. "I do not fear death."

The orc raised his blade, menacing in his eyes. Just when he was about to bring the blade towards Aragorn, a fierce voice called behind him, and a hand grabbed onto his. "You shall not harm him."

"He is of no use to us!" Cried the orc, outraged, "He will speak of nothing." 

"We must bring him to Gondor. There, Saruman will have his words."   
  
_Saruman… Gondor?_

"What news of Gondor?" asked Aragorn, failing to keep the panic form his voice. 

"Gondor hast fallen." Said the orc, clearly smirking. "Saruman's arms are lengthy and strong. Uruk-hais, wargs and our bred travelled across the Isen River towards Ithilien, and there we had a swift victory over the city. We then proceeded to Gondor, Ithilien as a base. They were outnumbered, and many then fled to the mountains or Rohan, there seeking refuge.  Denethor, the steward of Gondor was slain, and by death he said to us that Isuildur's heir linger yet in Middle Earth as a ranger. Thus onwards we've being hunting for rangers, yet none knew where Arathorn's descendant dwelt. They make tasty luncheons," There was a sickening smack of lips as the orc smiled, its eyes sneaky as they rested upon the men, "Aye, yes they do." 

Aragorn widened his eyes in profound horror, he felt himself plunging down a steep hill, his heart dropped to the very depth of his stomach. 

_I have failed my people._

_Gondor hast fallen._

~*

**TBC  
  
  
**

**Consider:**

**Why was Elrond alarmed by Legolas finding the letter?**

**What happens to Aragorn – now that Gondor hast fallen to the shadows of Saruman, and his people scattered in the wild?**

**Would Aragorn reveal his identity, so he could avenge his people [while being in grave peril in the process]?**

*****

**Oh c'mon my sweeties ^_^ tell me your guesses puh-lease? It's just for some fun =P I'd like to know what you feel with the progress of the story and your guesses of where the story is going. I mean, it's nice to know whether the next chapter is predictable or not, hm? **

**  
  
Anyhow, replies now:  
  
  
Virginia woolf: **thanks =] 

**Emme1**: oh yes, the movie is similar to the book where I got the idea from (the same, come to think of it) written by Nicholas Sparks. It was called _Message in a Bottle_ and the storyline was same – the guy was Garrett and woman's name was Theresa. That's the letter idea =] Anyhow, thanks!

**Tol**** Morwen: **There goes the third chap =] Thanks!

**Jadesaber****: **Yes, this is a slash between Legolas and Aragorn, I'm rather a big fan of slash at the moment =] Thanks!

**Goldmund****:** Glad you liked it =] I have half a mind of twisting the story here and there – though twists were never really my thing, so hopefully the story don't get out of shape as it progresses. Anyhow, thanks!  
  
**Legolas19:** Another chappie. Thanks! =]

**Silvertoekee****:** The book was named _Message in a Bottle_ by Nicholas Sparks, rather a romantic read =] Yeah, maybe it's just Blockbuster here about the hiring thing, but argh you're right – they are definitely very evil. Oh Arwen – do you like Arwen? The scene between Legolas and Elrond went a bit longer than I intended, thus she didn't come in this chapter – the next then =] Thanks!!  
  
  
****

**Ta sweeties!**


	4. Council of Elrond

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer and warning**: The most I own of LOTR is probably the DVDs, along with posters, folders etc… thus trust me when I say I own nothing, I wouldn't be here if I did.   
  


**Warning:** AU, Slash

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Chapter 3: Council of Elrond**

~*

Legolas stared outside his chambers windows, aimlessly searching for a sign – any sign – that would arouse even the littlest of interest.  He had remained refined in the House of Elrond for the past few days, watching as many messengers were sent to parts of Middle Earth, for Elrond intended a council to be held this very day. Arwen Undómiel, to whom the letter had being addressed, were most distressed when the letter was taken to her – her beautiful grey eyes shone of tears and anguish, and she cried her lovers' name in whispered sobs of heartache. And Legolas learnt, as the days passed, that the piece of torn parchment he had come across was of more importance than he had ever predicted, as it was written by the king of Gondor, Isildur's heir.

A distant chime rang through the rigid silence, causing the elf to jump hastily to his feet. Was that not the warning bell of the council? 

His light steps carried him down the elegant halls of the House, past the many empty chambers to the porch where many times before he had come during sleepless nights to view the darkened sky of many twinkling stars. 

The seats around the porch were occupied as he came into sight, by not only elves but also of dwarves and men. It was the first time that his eyes had ever caught vision of other races of Middle Earth, and to him they're the most fascinating beings. He stood motionless for a while, gaping. 

"Here comes Legolas of the woodland realm," Elrond said, beckoning Legolas' to an empty seat beside he, "it was he whom found the letter by king of Gondor.

The King was captured by orcs, and the western men bring news of the downfall of Gondor." 

There was a tense pause, which was only disturbed by the ragged breathings of the dwarves and men.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of the East. Middle Earth stands now upon the brink of destruction, none can escape it. You will unite or you will fall."

Another lengthy pause in which the attendances mulled over the words of Elrond. 

"Speak Boromir and Faramir, sons of Denethor, Steward of Gondor!"

The two young men opposite Legolas glanced at each other, a curious frown on their handsome faces. 

"It was bar a few weeks ago that Gondor was overthrown," Spoke the elder of the two men. He's eyes rested momentarily upon Legolas before straying towards Elrond, his tone of great hesitance. To speak of his city's fall was of immense shame. "They first gained victory over the city of Ithilien, where our defence had slackened during years. They then proceeded to Gondor in but a day's time, leaving us unprepared. We were out-numbered 1 to 10, or perhaps more. It was none but a hopeless battle, thus many fled the lands to the mountains or Rohan, seeking refuge. Saruman led Gondor into darkness there afterwards, and those captured or stayed were slain and tortured. Even the women and the children were treated horrifyingly, and some became the orcs' dines. Faramir and I had only barely fled from their grasp." 

"Then it is likely," Legolas reasoned, "that Isildur's heir has also being taken to Gondor, as that is where Saruman now dwells. We must hither towards Gondor at once, if that be the case." 

A murmur of agreement broke out around the circle. 

"To trust an elf's word?" There was a loud smirk over the gentle murmur, "Not in the years of my earthly life!"

Legolas clutched the arms of his chair, a light scowl on his face as his eyes scrutinized the dwarf who had spoken. "Have I done you any wrong deeds, master dwarf? That you must think so lowly of me?" 

"Nay," The dwarf answered easily. "But thou art an elf." 

"Gimli son of Glorin and Legolas son of Thranduil, did you not hear my words? You will unite, or you will fall." Elrond said, eyeing the dwarf with great impatience. "Do you wish the fall of Middle Earth?"

"Nay," Legolas subdued his mounting anger, appearing at peace. "Please proceed." 

"We must first save the king of Gondor," An elf next to Elrond said. His features were sharp and precise, bearing great likeness to Lord Elrond bar much younger. "Elrohir and I will rescue him, ada. Give us a small troop." 

"And I!" Gimli, the dwarf who had opposed of Legolas cried at once, "Not all glory should be taken by the elves!" 

"And us." The men who were named Boromir and Faramir spoke, exchanging a swift look of understanding between themselves. "Hatred towards Saruman runs deep in our veins: for it was he who caused the downfall of our city and father." 

Elrond nodded. 

"And I." The voice was almost inaudible. 

It was Legolas. Much to his dismay, the heads turned towards him in surprise. He shrugged weakly at the raised brows.

"Nay Legolas," opposed Elrond, sounding weary, "You are but a visitor, you have not your father ascent." 

"T's why I must prove to ada that I am able, milord. He treats me as I am but a mere elfling!" said Legolas, face of stony determination. "T's why I left my beloved Mirkwood, why I left my people…and why I beseech you no word to ada of my being in Imladris. T's adventures I crave, milord, nothing else." 

"Aye Legolas, but you do not understand. Orcs are fierce and gruesome creatures, little one. You have never before encountered battles, you will not be ready." 

"By the Valar, I am a warrior!" Legolas' face flushed scarlet of indignation. "I care not of ghastly orcs, they too have come to Mirkwood, and I have indeed encountered them before."

Elrond stared hard at the fair face that was Legolas Greenleaf, his heart aching. _Alas, had I not foreseen this day? And had I not tried to prevent it? You do not know what doom you walk into, little one._

Legolas stared back with his head held high, his gaze strong. He looked searchingly into Elrond's eyes for a hidden answer, yet what he saw started him. He gave a slight flinch, and Elrond quickly turned away. 

Was it tears that he saw in the elder elf's eyes? Legolas wondered, almost uncertain of his very own sight. Elrond… commanding, grave, serious… the lord of the Sindar elves… shedding tears? It was almost unbelievable as the sun rising from the west. __

"Three elves, one dwarf and two men." Elrond sighed his second defeat to the prince of Mirkwood. "You will bring together again the allegiance that once existed between the races of Middle Earth, and together the fate of Gondor, and of Middle Earth rests now upon your shoulders."

"Surely you mean not to send them away without my counsel?" The voice was almost amused. A being glowing of pure white was ascending towards the porch, his face invisibly hidden in the bright light. 

"Nay Gandalf." A half-smile played upon Elrond's lips, thought his expression did not change.

"Alas, must you ruin an old man's attempted joke, Elrond?" The blinding beam softened almost disappointingly, an elderly figure coming into precise view. His hair and robes were as white as clouds, long and beautiful. His eyes shone of playful twinkles. It was the lines upon his face that betrayed his age, as it spoke of his years of knowledge and wisdom. 

"A Maia." Legolas whispered, recognising the form for what he was immediately. 

"Thou cannot change the future, Lord Elrond," Gandalf said, his expression changed so swiftly akin to a summer's day. His voice was grave and quiet as though he tried to keep his words unheard save for Elrond himself. "The doom was foreseen, and it is to remain. Your powers are only to forewarn of what may come to be, thee cannot do anything for him, Elrond." 

Elrond's face paled considerably. "Do you speak also, Gandalf, of the waning light of the evenstar?" 

"Aye, but that can be saved if time allows it." 

"Thank you, Gandalf." Elrond nodded his understanding. When he turned towards Legolas again he seemed to have aged many years. 

Gandalf smiled lightly, a smile that radiated of only melancholy. He too, turned towards Legolas, his eyes a mixture of sadness and great hope, "You have a choice little one," He started.

"You may return to Mirkwood, and then make for the west with the rest of your kin, and remain Legolas. Or you may leave with the fellowship, and play a part in saving Middle Earth from its doom as an allegiance of old. It is however, at your personal sacrifice. If you wish to set with the fellowship hence onwards…"

He took a deep breath, never before had anyone looked so gravened or old. 

"Your life will be forfeit in time to come. 

Do you wish to continue?"

~*

**TBC**

**_Note:_**** oh dear god, I had a little time on hand today, and thus I read through the previous 1 to 3 chapters of An Elven Tale and I must say I was literally _repulsed_ by what I read. I'm very, very sorry for the crappiness of the previous chapters – and of this one. I will _try_ to write better in later chapters!**

**BTW: anyone free to be my dear-est beta? =] [you'll be loved for the rest of your life! LoL]**

-

**Consider: **

**What would Legolas' answer be?**

**What did Elrond and Gandalf's exchanged words mean? And what did Elrond mean by "Do you speak also, Gandalf, of the waning light of the evenstar?"?**

**Alas, what doom awaits Legolas that gravens Elrond and Gandalf?**

**-**

**Replies:**

**Tol**** Morwen: **Oh, you have an idea, share it hun, share it with us yeah! =] I really want to know your guesses and all ^_^ it's fun. Lol. Hm, as for Aragorn… ah well, his decision will be out soon, so no more said =]. Thanks heaps!!

**Starlit Hope: **Does this chapter explain a bit more? =] Thanks! 

**Jadesaber****:** Yeah I absolutely agree! Legolas and Aragorn are just _so god damn cute!_ I can't say anything about your guesses right now, but oh god I really want to say one sentence to you. If it doesn't cause much trouble, leave an email? Or maybe I'll just leave my "sentence" till later chapters =P. Thanks a bunch and thanks even more for the guesses!!! =]

**Tmelange****: **Thanks heaps! ^_^ 

**Silvertoekee****:** Oh no! Imagine Elrond chasing poor Legolas away from Imladris! That is horror! Pure horror! LoL. I would not in any years of my life torture Legolas like that, well… fine maybe I'd torture him, but he shall remain dignified =]. Thanks for taking your time to answer my "considers" yeah =] should be revealed soon :P. Thanks!

**Legolas19:** Thanks heaps sweetie! =] Hope you enjoy.

**So basically the "fellowship" has being formed to the rescue of Aragorn, now this is where the story actually begins to unfold… **

*****

**In the next chapter:**

Aragorn glared at the orcs, full of hatred. Despite the warnings of his comrades he cried in his spiteful words, who cared if they were to kill him, slaughter him, he could not live with the thought that his people were slain in his stead, "I am -"

~

"The ring of Barahir." Legolas whispered as he picked up the glimmering object, and turned back towards Aragorn. There was interest in his sapphire eyes as he cried, "Why, but you're Isildur's heir!" 

*****

**Ta sweeties!**


	5. Rescue of Hope

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer and warning**: The most I own of LOTR is probably the DVDs, along with posters, folders etc… thus trust me when I say I own nothing, I wouldn't be here if I did.   
  


**Warning:** AU, **major slash!**

**First of all, a very very big thanks to silvertoekee and Shelly LeBlanc for beta-ing ^^ ~mwah**

**Oh, and check out this poster at: the poster I made for this story. =] … damn Aragorn and Legolas are so good. **

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Chapter 4: Rescue of Hope**

**Set a few days after previous chapter**

~*

Aragorn glowered at the gruesome, piteous creatures, his eyes reflected of the utmost loathing. If only he had been captured, he would've fought until the very end, but with him were his comrades.  And he could not lead them to their deaths, those who had sworn to his service until their very last breaths, 

They were moving now, faster than the previous days, south towards Gondor where Saruman had led the city into shadow. He knew without a doubt that Rohan, city of the horse lords was in great peril – even though Saruman had overlooked the city, which was at the doorsteps of Isengard.  And had instead stretched his lengthy arms towards Gondor, he had definitely not forgotten the land. Théoden the Rohan king would not have been prepared had Saruman decided to invade, for he would've thought Saruman cared naught for their land, and lessened his guard instead of heighten it after the fall of Gondor. 

"Faster!" A particularly nasty orc snarled, pushing Aragorn harshly from the back. Its near presence smelt of rotten flesh. 

Aragorn bit his tongue from crying out; the arrow wound he received days ago had not healed. He doubted if it ever would, at least not under theses circumstances. 

"Move faster!" Another prod at the back almost sent him stumbling to the ground, but he managed to remain dignified and upright, shooting another glare at his capturers. 

They ran at an alarming pace, as though a whip was at their tail, lashing them had they slowed even a fraction. The earth groaned as the orcs' thundered with their ungraceful presence. Even the birds and trees seemed to be in fear and hatred of the creatures, for Aragorn missed the chirping that rang through the sky during the morn. 

"The sun is rising. We will take a rest," a commanding voice growled from the front most of the group, and only then did Aragorn notice the very edges of the horizon dyed a light orange. 

He felt yet another push from the back, this time sending him straight towards the ground. And his knees met the earth with a sickening scratch, sending yet another rush of stars to his eyes and rage washed over him as though it was water tipped over his head. He was used to pain, his years as a ranger accustomed him to many injuries both of poison and external-making. Thus he concluded it was the constant nag at the back of his mind of the thought that many rangers were dying in his stead, which caused him such fury as he never known before. 

"I am hungry!" cried one orc; its yellow eyes stared pointedly at the men. "They will say nothing. They are of no use. Must we labour ourselves with mortals and bring them to Saruman when their end will be the same? They look tasty." 

"Nay, take your eyes off them filth. We must bring them to Saruman and let nothing harm them."

"Can we not ask them ourselves? Surely their answers will not change." He charged at the man right of Aragorn before the other had replied, contorting its ugly face with a sneer as it asked, "Do you know Isildur's heir?"

"They do not know," another spoke in a lazy drawl, "I have questioned them but a few days ago. Their lips are bound. T's all is well. We hunt rangers, and we dine upon them when Saruman's done his needs. T's only time we waste, nothing else."   
  


His words bit into Aragorn's heart as though a snake's venomous poison.

_T's for me those rangers die_. 

Aragorn looked searchingly at his longest comrade and friend.  His eyes were windows to his heart and they spoke for him in silence. 

_What am I to do?_

"Do not answer them." Came the swift reply in the softest of whispers. 

"I have already led my people into ruins, I cannot let more die by my hand." Aragorn barely moved his lips in fear that the orcs would overhear. They seemed oblivious as they rested in packs under cool shades of the trees; the sun was rising fast from the eastern sky, casting life over Middle Earth. 

"They die for the future of their city, they die as a hero! A warrior!" The voice raised a notch, attracting the attention of a nearby orc. 

"You're not mute, then. What did you speak of?" At once the orc was at their necks, a smirking smile spread across his face. 

"T's nothing of importance to you," Matthew* the comrade, shot back, eyes flaming of hatred. 

"You must control your tongue…men," a slight scowl distorted the face even more, if it was possible. "Or you may find yourself rid of your voice for good."

"Is that a challenge?" Matthew raised his eyebrows.

"If you call it that." The orc reached for his sword, and its surface gave a soft flicker of light. 

"Then take my voice. For I know something you wish, and only I know it. Cut my tongue and you will never find the king of Gondor, Isildur's heir," Matthew muttered with an air of smugness, his tone equally deadly.

"Isildur's heir, you say?" 

"The one and only." 

"You know of his dwelling?" Aragorn noted unmistakable interest in the voice. 

"Aye," Matthew confirmed much to Aragorn's confusion. "He stands now inches from you." 

"Then we have stepped on treasure," the orc eyed all the men with great attention. "Who do you speak of?" 

"I am the king of Gondor. T's I who you need. Now leave the others and take me to Saruman." 

"Nay!" Aragorn cried at once, what he wanted to say burst forth before he was able to stop himself. He could not let his friend be taken to the evils in his place. Despite the warnings he cried his spiteful words.  Who cared if they were to kill him and slaughter him?  He could not live with the thought that too many people were slain because of him.

 "I am -"

Before he was able to finish his sentence, the orc widened his eyes in pure surprise. There was a pause in which Aragorn left his mouth open, half a mind on continuing with his claim.  And then, as though in slow motions, the orc fell forward into a heap onto the ground, an arrow embedded into its back. 

Momentarily startled, Aragorn remained unaware of the rest of the orcs' calls. He caught the elvish markings upon the arrow, and his heart lifted.

"The elves," he whispered. His eyes strayed towards deeper into the forest, where battle raged, and there he caught glimpses of raven and gold… of silver and mithril.  

"Indeed." He felt the ropes around his wrist come lose and he whirled around to face his half-elven brother. 

"Elrohir." Sparing time for but a hasty brush of hand on each other's shoulder, Elrohir handed Aragorn a prepared sword, and together they freed the rest of the captured men. 

Baring the elvish sword tight in his hands, Aragorn raged into battle, his vigour of those above any other. He brought his sword down as he neared an orc, catching it off guard. The Orc's head rolled onto the ground before he could make any defences. He ran his sword through another, and it stained of muddy blood as he pulled it from the Orc's torso.

For some strange reason, a sudden panic arose in his heart, mixed with dread. He turned fast, only indistinctively hearing someone calling, "Careful!" 

It must've being instinct, for behind him he found the creature who seemed the commander of orcs was standing tall behind him, the sword raised high in one hand and ready to strike. Taken by horror, Aragorn dashed aside, managing to dodge the blade yet he did not see another coming at him from his right. 

A sharp pain at his side informed him that he had another opponent upon the battlefield and that he was injured. He quickly rolled onto his side and stabbed his sword into the orc beside him, avenging himself, and stood. The pain was agonizing, already he felt light-headed and dizzy. His hands automatically reached to his side, feeling the liquid pouring onto his hands. 

_Nay_

Blurrily, he felt himself falling onto his knees and his weapon falling from his hands. 

_I must stay focused,_ He willed himself. But even as he thought it, his mind began to slip. 

He saw an orc above him, its blade aimed at his chest, and he knew he had no chance of defending himself. Thus when he fell into darkness, he believed he would never open his eyes again. 

~

Legolas surveyed the field with a sense of satisfaction upon his face. Far from being unaccustomed to battle; he had slain more orcs than he'd bargained. His keen hearing and sight picked his opponents far before they were ready and his fast motions when it came to his bow and arrow minimised any chance of survival of his enemy. He held his twin blades in his hands, having finished his arrows too soon for his liking. 

He saw the twins, both of whom were finishing off the last of their enemy that were upon them. 

.

.

.

He saw the dwarf, whose axe was raised in defence against his opponent. The dwarf was indeed a great warrior, and Legolas had to respect him for that, no matter how much they disapproved of each other.

.

.

.

He saw the two men, with who he had become better friends during the pursuit since the past few days, and they too, were battling hard against the orcs. 

.

.

.

He saw the white wizard, whose powering aura was ever so present and forboding to the evil. 

.

.

.

He saw a few men, whom they had set out to rescue. And they had done their job; the mere thought brought a smile to his face. Somewhere among them would be the king of Gondor…

And his eyes came to another. The man was upon the earth, unconscious as it seemed. His sword was inches from him, and even if he had the chance he could not defend himself from any evils. An Orc was proceeding towards him, ready to kill.

And unknown panic rose within his chest, Legolas ran furiously to where the man lay. He grabbed an arrow along the way, which was embedded deep in a fallen Orc's flesh. Faster than the blink of an eye, he had positioned the arrow and sent it flying towards the standing Orc's neck. 

It hit where it was meant, yet the orc did not fall. 

Legolas mumbled a light curse. He swiftly deposited his arrow and bow where Faramir fought, dashing past as a twinkle of gold. And even before he reached where the orc stood, whose blade a mere inches away from the man's chest, he jumped past the many bodies in his way and kicked the orc from where it stood. The Orc caught by complete surprise, flung the blade towards Legolas and fell thundering upon the earth. 

Legolas tried in vain to keep on his feet, but the sharp edges of the blade pierced his shoulder with surprising accuracy. He grabbed the hilt of the sword with his hand of the uninjured arm and brought it towards the orc but a few feet away. 

The Orc fell heavily onto the ground. 

Contented, he turned to where the man lay still and motionless. 

He crawled towards the man and even as he did so he was graceful. Even when he had one injured arm ailing him as he inched towards his friend upon the ground, he remained graceful. 

He placed his ear on the man's chest, listening intently for the rhythm of life – a heartbeat. It was there, faint but stable. 

He let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. 

And then his eyes caught something glimmering in the sun. 

His hands reached for it, his hands clasped around something cold as steel. "The Ring of Barahir." He whispered, many times had he heard stories of such ring, of the immortal and mortal binding between Beren and Luthien the fair. There was interest in his bright sapphire eyes as he next looked at the man unconscious, "Why, but you're Isildur's heir!"

This was but the first time when he unknowingly saved Aragorn. 

And unbeknownst to himself, this marked the beginning of the rest of his tale. 

~*

**TBC**

*** - I know Matthew is too modern a name, but I'm too dumb to think of anything else =/ Sorry. **

**Replies:**

**Emme1:** Thanks! LoL, the council was actually just a random idea though I'm really glad you liked it. =]

**Lyn:** Thanks for the suggestions. I went through my chapter this time just to check if I left any, though I don't think I was particularly patient with it =P so if there's more please excuse it. Thanks again~!!! 

**Luthien Galathil:** No way! You don't write crap! I believe I've read your stories and they're damn good. Ah I'm not exactly good with action, I stick with romance =] now I'm just waiting for the romance parts to come to pass… ^_^ Thanks~!  
  
**Tol Morwen:** LoL. Very true, that was a very stupid question. Yup, the doom is indeed falling in love which leads to a greater sacrifice – however I must agree with you, falling in love with Legolas is definitely no doom for me either. It will be a dream come true! =] Thanks!

**Silvertoekee:** lol! The fellowship of Aragorn, yack I never thought of that name: interesting. Oh I have a thing for Faramir, maybe it's because Orlando wanted to play him, or simply of his role in _Return of the King_ but I absolutely adore him. Pity twins didn't appear in the movie at all. Thanks for everything ^^  
  
**Jadesaber:** LoL. Well yes, I suppose of course he'll have to say yes. I have to say you're great at foretelling what's to come: though the doom would not be heart-broken death for Legolas once Aragorn dies of mortal age. And no, I don't intent to make them bind together – that would be too happy for my sadist mind =P. Thanks heaps~!  
  
**Shelly LeBlanc:** very much, thank you! And thanks for the tips, I'll remember them. ~mwah.

**Eithne****:** Arh, new readers are always welcomed with a big, big hug. ~hug. Lol. Thanks dearest!   
  
**And of course, Legolas19:** Thanks heaps girl, for the e-mail. ~mwah~. And I betcha anything you can write great. =]  
  
**Thanks again, all, your reviews made my day – literally!**


	6. West Calls

**An Elven Tale  
  
**

**Disclaimer**: The most I own of LOTR is probably the DVDs, along with posters, folders etc… thus trust me when I say I own nothing, I wouldn't be here if I did.   
  


**Warning:** AU, **major slash!**

**Once again, my deepest thanks to Silvertoekee and Shelly LeBlanc**

~*

"…" – Speech

_This_ – Thoughts 

**Chapter 5:** West Calls

~*

Gandalf surveyed the remains of their rescuing battle; scattered were Orcs' bodies and their dirtied blood. It was all a sea of grey and muddy red, staining the fresh greens and browns of the trees and earth. Satisfied with the result, he allowed a small smile to grace his wise and tired face. 

His eyes searched from one form to the next, counting the numbers, the casualties, and almost immediately he noticed two missing. The smile was quickly wiped off his face and replaced by a worried scowl.  And he cursed lightly under his breath, tightening his grip on his staff.  

_Aragorn. _

_Legolas._

"Look for bodies of Aragorn and Legolas," he cried to those who stood oblivious, gloated in glory of their triumph. "One ranger and one elf.  Alas, Middle Earth suffers without their aid." 

There was a minute of confusion in which people stared at him with blank looks upon their faces, uncomprehending of his words. Till the anxiety which filled the air seemed to have a grip on them, and their eyes turned serious as the situation dawned. They scurried in many different directions, searching amongst the piles of dead orcs. 

"A man and an elf!" Be it fate that worked against them or anything else, it was the dwarf Gimli who found the wounded, and the smirk he had across his face was most displeasing to Gandalf. "They're unconscious." 

"Bless the Valar, let nothing fatal ail them." Gandalf whispered as he rushed to where Gimli stood, and caught sight of their bodies rather near each other, with Legolas's right hand on top of Aragorn's left. Even then, he had to smile at how the works of the Valar may be so subtle yet so meaningful even at the most perilous of times. They were hints that only he alone could understand, and were too ordinary and insignificant to another's eye.  

"Tis Legolas's bow and arrow." Faramir came forth with the elf's weapons, his face shown great guilt. "Legolas handed me his weapons in hope of saving another man – Aragorn. Indeed I saw him attacking an orc aiming to kill a man on the ground, and was inflected with a shoulder wound. Orcs attacked me hence afterwards, thus it slipt my mind in such chaos. Forgive me, Mithrandir."

"Nay, speak not as such Faramir son of Denethor, you did naught wrong." 

Gandalf knelt before Legolas, whose blood tarnished his green tunic rapidly. As gently as he could ever be, Gandalf lifted the clothing from where it was cut, almost cursing again upon seeing exactly how deep the wound was. He wouldn't be surprised if Legolas could not use that arm for many days. Had it been a mortal, the arm would have been useless, but the first-born acquire such strength and healing powers within their Eldar blood. And he knew under the right treatment the wound would leave naught but a scar. 

"He has lost much blood." Gandalf announced quite unnecessarily, as it was obvious to even blind eyes. "That succumb him into darkness." 

"And Aragorn?" a man stepped forward, looking towards his sire with immense worry that filled his wondrous hazel-green eyes. "He suffers also from an arrow wound the day we were captured, it never healed."

"And I understand why." Gimli the dwarf remarked with apparent disfavour of the Orcs' ways. 

Gandalf moved to Aragorn's side, his expression turning even more grievous as he inspected the mortal's injuries. "Aye, you're right. The arrow wound is not the worry however, he was hurt by blade also, and it was tainted with poison. We must make for Imladris straight away, preferably by the third morn; else the wound will be dire indeed." 

"Tis not easy Gandalf!" Boromir objected, feeling hopeless for his king. "The men are rid of their steeds, and with so many of us, we cannot make a swift trip as we did in pursuit."

"Aye, tis why I propose we must send a troop of our fastest riders ahead with Aragorn and Legolas." 

"Surely you mean -" said Elladan. 

"- Us." Elrohir finished. They exchanged a small grin at each other between their looks of anxiousness towards their half-brother and fair elven friend. 

"The arrogance and confidence of elves." Gimli grumbled in distaste, keeping his voice low. Unfortunately, the twin's keen hearing caught his words. 

"I would not speak such if I were you, master dwarf," Elladan's head was held high as he spoke, unfazed by Gimli's harsh tone and words, "If memory serves, for one who spoke much about being fearless as you had, you did manage to slow us even upon the backs of our steeds." 

Patches of red coloured Gimli's face that was otherwise hidden beneath his thick mass of tangled hair. He muttered, "'It was because I had to rely on an elf." 

"Indeed?" Elrohir's eyebrows rose in mock surprise, "Then fear not, we shall not bear you behind us ever again whilst we stand, if that be your wish."

"Aye, that sounds most pleasing." Gimli nodded, though feeling rather contrary despite himself. He was no horse-rider. 

_The stubbornness of dwarves and elves will lead Middle Earth into disarray one of these days._ Gandalf thought as he lowered himself to the ground, and he took few herbs from his robes. Thanking the Valar that he was always a little prepared for emergencies as such, though it was definitely not enough, it was able to stop Legolas's profound bleeding. He gently pressed the herbs to Legolas's shoulder and it must've been painful, for Legolas's face cringed even though he was unconscious. Skilfully, he ripped strips of cloth from his robes, and tightly tied it to Legolas's and Aragorn's wounds to prevent infection. 

"I did indeed mean the Peredhil twins," Gandalf remarked upon his finishing touches, breaking the glare exchanged between the dwarf and elves. "Go, make haste, your brother's life is in your hands." 

The twins gave a brisk nod, their expressions turning solemn. Elladan whistled a tune most melodic to the ears, and upon his command their horses galloped towards them, one of black and the other white. They settled the ranger and elf first onto their horsebacks, giving them all the comfort that was able for their ride. Bidding a very fast farewell, they mounted their steeds and were gone within seconds. 

~                                        

Elrond observed his daughter from her chamber's door, reluctant to disturb. She looked peaceful, absorbed in a book that was in her hands as she lay on her bed. How could he shatter his very own daughter's wonderful reality? His ability of foresight was indeed too great a burden at times. 

Shortly after Legolas's birth, he had foreseen into the future of Legolas's fate that intertwined with Aragorn. Elrond knew, long ago, that Legolas alongside Aragorn would become one significant character amongst the people and allegiances of the third age. Their memory would not wane or fade even as time passes and the world moved on.  And they would be remembered by mortals and immortals alike as great warriors and saviours of their land. They had such a role in saving Middle Earth from destruction, and such a sacrifice to be made when the end comes, that Elrond had immediately wrote to Thranduil in hope of changing the future. Thus the many hundreds and thousands of years that followed, Thranduil had banned his son leaving Mirkwood under the claim of love and care. It was a nasty shock when Elrond beheld Legolas's form wherein his house, carrying a letter from Aragorn, out of all odds. 

_You can only foresee the future, Lord Elrond. You cannot change it._

He sighed, remembering the words of the white wizard, words which he had known but chose to ignore.  

"Ada," Arwen's voice called to him, startling him from his reverie. "What troubles you so?"

"Arwen," Elrond took soft steps into the chamber, his face reflected not only of his usual solemness but also of sorrow. "Naro-nin, ield-nin, ceri-cin melo-Aragorn? (Tell me, my daughter, do you truly love Aragorn?)"

She did not so much as think before she replied, "Aye ada, with all my heart." Her voice was soft as a far-away look glazed over her eyes. 

"Do I also have your love?" Elrond pressed. 

"Of course Ada, you should not need to ask." 

"Then Arwen, take this a plea from a loved one to you, leave now to Valinor upon the next ship that travels west."

"Ada, we've had such conversations before, had we not? I cannot leave Aragorn at this hour – you and I both know that Middle Earth stands now on the brink of destruction, he among it. I have given him a promise ada, and I have made my choice, I cannot waver." 

"Nay Arwen, you do not understand." Elrond sighed, holding his daughter's hand in his own. "Aragorn's destiny is not yours, and nor are your fates entwined. I have seen into his future, his life and love belongs not to you but another. I do not deny I have tried to change it, but it was predestined by the Valar soon after Sauron came to power – I cannot alter what may come to be. Do not let your heart forsake you to your doom, Arwen, your light is waning. Leave for the west on the next ship and reside in the west as the Evenstar of our people. Your future is no longer in the mortal realm, no longer with Aragorn." 

"Was it not his destiny to wed Undómiel, daughter of Peredhil half-elven? As the story of Luthien the fair and Beren?" She seemed confused. 

"Nay, his fate lies with another of elven statue, and they are to save Middle Earth in this age." 

"I do not understand. Whom do you speak?" 

"Will you not leave to the west?" He did not answer her question. 

"Ada…"

"There is nothing for you here." Elrond said, "There is only death."

"What of Hope?"

"There is no hope for you, Arwen. Reside to the west at my request; there you shall meet your true hope." 

~

~

**TBC**

**WoOt****! I don't know why, but I have a feeling whenever I read through my chapters again that it's really rushed, do you get it as well? =/ And apparently the site for poster didn't come through last time… oh well~  also, I realise in the last chap, before Aragorn saw the orc he heard someone call "careful". I did not say it again in Legolas' POV, but that person _was_ meant to be Legolas. Just to clarify on that one. =]**

**Dammit, I realise that I've being running out of questions to ask… I suppose I will never succeed in mystery. But I racked my brain and I found like… two this time, so yeah:**

**. What did Gandalf mean when he said "Middle Earth suffers without their aid?" **

**. What would Arwen's choice be, given that Aragorn would be back in Rivendell rather hurt?**

**-**

**_Replies:_**

**Lilimalinda** – woot! A feedback from a talented writer, I'm honoured. Thanks! =]

**Child of Magick** – you're too good for my ego, sweetie :P I'm in love with Aragorn/Legolas also! They're too damn good, aren't they? *giggles*. Movie-wise, that is. Thanks very much for your much too kind feedback, you made me a happy, happy girl :)

**Eithne** – Wicked? *makes a face* I'm not wicked :P lol. Ok I'll think twice before I say that again… I have a thing for AU tales too, and glad to know about the thing in name department :P I swear I was truly stuck. Thanks a lot hun!!

**Tol**** Morwen** – Wee! Can I have some milk and cookies too? Hehe, you can hear my stomach grumbling, can't you? :P Thanks very much girl!!

**Goldmund** – again, you made my day, goldmund. Thanks very much for your words. ^^ You don't know how glad I am, really, to hear someone likes this story, as I highly doubted it would be up-to-standards to say the least. =]

**T** – Sorry, no AL in this chapter, but promised in the next! =] As for the destiny thing – I've always had a thing for those kind of fate stuff too. Must be too much movies that got to me. ^^ Thanks!

**Jadesaber** – No worries about his wounds :P I would not ever dare to let him go anywhere near death too soon, it would destroy my fun. Lol. Thanks heaps!

**Legolas19 **– don't deny it! :P I know you can, I've only started reading your Nin Estel story, I'm afraid I haven't yet finished (though the chapters _are_ mighty short :P) but I'm enjoying it very much. Hope you found this chapter up to scratch. =]

**Zlave** – thanks! =]

~

**I know there is no ****AL**** in this chapter, and rather boring too in sense it is just a bring-over to the next chapter. AL will most definitely have moments to share in the next, I swear to it! =]**


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